


Appearances

by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/mako_lies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon can't stand aside while Naomi deals with Crowley. It's just too embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appearances

**Author's Note:**

> For my Abaddon/Naomi square at SPN Bingo.

The meaningless chatter mingles with some catchy pop in the background. Abaddon’s painted pretty mouth curls up at the polished visage of Naomi. Early as always. Let it not be said that perfect Naomi has ever been late, even when meeting with her enemies. Abaddon’s willing to bet she shows the same courtesy to Crowley. “Abaddon,” crisp as fresh lettuce. “Please sit.”

Rather than obey, because Abaddon’s a bitch, but untrained, she looms behind Naomi. “Heard Michael promoted you,” she drawls, snagging a piece of sashimi, her nails red-lacquered and gleaming. 

“Yes,” Naomi says, but stiffly, sharp suit lines gone sharper. 

The server clears his throat, and his voice comes hesitant, as though he’s never seen a sharp-dressed woman being harassed by a leather-clad redhead, before, “May I take your order, ma’am?”

“Sake and whatever she has. There’s a dear.” Abaddon winks at him to watch him shift, uncomfortably drawn to the bright lushness of her lips, and he licks at his own mouth like it’s hers. Fat chance. But it’s fun to watch him squirm like he’ll get something.

Once he’s left, slower than he came, Naomi clears her throat, imperious in her pressed perfection. “Sit.”

“What, no please?” drawls Abaddon, fingers dipping to the curve of Naomi’s throat, then lower—enough that Naomi tenses, before Abaddon pulls back. “Where _are_ your manners, pet?”

“I’m hardly your pet. Now, either sit and speak like a civilized person, or stop wasting my time.” 

Abaddon settles into her seat as her sake arrives. The server stares at her, hopeful brown gaze lingering lower than her eyes, but Abaddon sips her drink without thanks, barely notices as he finally slinks away. 

Dealing with Naomi is always a tricky business. For a bureaucrat, she’s well-informed and dangerous. 

But Abaddon can work with that. She’s dangerous, too. Had to be, to survive as long as she has. Her gaze flicks to the window for a moment, before she turns her attention back to Naomi. 

Daintily, Naomi eats her sushi in two bites. Her hands are french manicured, and Abaddon watches her hold the chopsticks with more than passing interest. “Vice President, you are on your way to the top.” Abaddon leans back in her chair. “Michael know you’ve been selling information to Crowley?”

With all the precision of a surgeon, Naomi sets down her half-eaten piece of sushi—soy sauce seeping out onto her plate like brown blood. “Threatening me in broad daylight? Your presumptuousness—“ but her cheeks are flushed red beneath her light powder.

“Relax, doll. See, what I can’t _believe_ someone so smart and successful would risk _everything_ on that overinflated car salesman,” Abaddon smoothes out her napkin in her lap as her food’s set before her. Taking a piece between her fingers, she pops it whole into her mouth, and Naomi purses her pretty lips, waiting for Abaddon to chew. Lady’s gotta watch her blood pressure, seriously. “Now, I know you two have history. Something about Macedonia. No, no. Don’t make that face. I have plenty of friends—”

Naomi slams a hand flat against the table, face going redder, and she leans close enough she nearly smears her suit jacket with sauce. “You listen to me, when I agreed to meet you it wasn’t to be extorted.”

“I’m not interested in extorting you. doll. I’m interested in what you know. Now, cast your lot in with Crowley and I’ll ruin you. Simple. But, tell me what you tell him _and_ tell me what he tells you… Well, I think this could be the start of something beautiful, don’t you?” Abaddon leans back in her chair, the thing creaking under her weight as Naomi mulls over the limitations of her power. 

Michael believes his employees follow him out of devotion, but it’s Lucifer who holds the love and adoration of his people. All of Lucifer’s cogs play their part in the machine, except Crowley, and Abaddon has no intention of letting him sell secrets while he reaps the benefits of providing Lucifer with intel on his brother. Makes her sick to her stomach just to think about it. Abaddon has never played second fiddle. She’s not about to start now—she may not have much, but she’s got her pride. 

“And why would I believe you’re the better option?” Naomi finally returns to her abandoned piece of sushi, not as dainty as before, her chewing sharper and eyes narrowed. “Please don’t make any mention of gender. It would be embarrassing.”

Abaddon snorts. “Not much of a feminist? Fine. Plain and simple, Lucifer prefers me, which makes me the horse to bet on, sweetheart.”

With her cool mask settled back over her features, Naomi polishes off the last of her food. If she’s smart, she’ll remember Crowley screwing her over, and that Crowley’s a spineless wretch with dreams of grandeur. Abaddon downs her drink. Naomi says, “I’ll have the answer for you next time. Subtely isn’t one of your—ah—many virtues. I have some friends to have discussions with.” Naomi rises over Abaddon. 

“Same bat-time, same bat-channel?” asks Abaddon, bored. Naomi’s believes herself above everybody else. Trust-fund bootlicker doesn’t know anything about what Abaddon’s sacrificed to get here. What Abaddon will do to succeed.

Anger coils hot in her stomach as she eyes Naomi’s smirk. 

“I’ll pencil you in,” says Naomi, primly. 


End file.
